Suffice to say that Sahm kept esteemed company. As a side note, that version had Flaco Jimenez on accordion, Augie Meyers on piano, David Bromberg on dobro, and Andy Statman on mandolin. Not that this writer professes to be all that knowledgeable about Sahm’s catalog, but the only tune recognized was “Poison Love,” not written by Sahm but having appeared in a collection of his greatest hits. Brad Sarno guest on pedal steel for “Beautiful Texas Sunshine” and Gary Hunt on fiddle for “Dynamite Woman.” Farrar doesn’t take the usual route however and instead largely picks Sahm’s overlooked songs in the period from the late ‘60s through the ‘70s. Here, the revamped Son Volt with all members in tow including drummer Mark Patterson and new guitarist John Horton, honor Sahm with a dozen tunes. Sahm sang with Farrar on the final Uncle Tupelo album Anodyne (1993), a landmark album in the alt-country movement, when they recorded Sahm’s “Give Back the Key to My Heart.” Far more importantly though, were Sahm’s contributions to blurring the genres of rock, R&B, country, folk, Tex-Mex and psychedelia, some of which endures through bands like The Bottle Rockets, Tremoloco, and even the Band of Heathens. In any case, Farrar had a personal connection as both a friend and a mentor with the larger-than-life character Doug Sahm who had a brief fling with fame with his Top 40 hits fronting the Sir Douglas Quintet. Maybe it’s because bassist Andrew DuPlantis who takes lead vocal on two tracks, and to a lesser extent, keyboardist/guitarist Mark Spencer sings with Farrar on most selections so that we’re hearing more than one voice most of the time. The lonely, weary, burnished voice of leader Jay Farrar does not dominate the sound in the way it does on most of the band’s offerings. Surely, it’s a tribute to the Tex-Mex stylings of Doug Sahm but that’s not the point. As a whole, the disc is like a lost sleeve from a honky-tonk’s jukebox from the golden era of country music’s creative past.Day of the Doug is the Son Volt album that doesn’t sound like a Son Volt album until we reach the last two tracks. The double fiddle leads of the opening track, “Hearts and Minds,” later joined by pedal steel and accordion, flows perfectly over the two-step rhythm and sets the tone for the whole recording. Consistent with his artful yearnings, the songwriter looks for that honest connection, “there’s a truth that’s underlying, the tears of change that must be done (‘Tears of Change’).”įarrar’s voice is front and central here, backed ably by his band-mates who offer up just the right accents and solos to match the tune’s emotion and his gritty soulfulness. There’s heartache, and not a little humor, sprinkled in lines like “there’s more brick walls than bridges on the way to your heart (‘Brick Walls’),” and “there’s a world full of wisdom inside a fiddle tune (‘Down the Highway’).” The musical settings and lyrical constructs embrace the rich tradition, allowing Farrar to settle in and get comfortable. There’s an authentic quality, a human passion and accessibility in the “everyman” experience in the songs, which Farrar embraces and brings to his own story songs. Earthy rhythms intended for barroom dancing with soaring melodies played on pedal steel or fiddle, populate songs of love lost and life’s hardships and disappointments. No pretense or artifice.įarrar always frontloads references to his influences – witness Son Volt’s name dropping of two essential Memphis labels – so it’s no surprise to find a song titled “Bakersfield” on a disc that celebrates the honky-tonk sound popularized by Merle Haggard and Buck Owens & the Buckaroos. As one might expect from one of the primary songwriters in the band that practically invented the “Americana” sound and alt/country scene, would settle in eventually and deliver a straight country outing. Of course, going back to Jay Farrar’s earliest recordings in Uncle Tupelo, there has always been an infatuation with old school, seminal country roots and folk artists, made most explicit on March 16 – 20, 1992 which celebrated primitive folk and gospel of the Louvin Bros. Don’t let the industrial musical complex tell you what kind of music you’re listening to anymore than you’d assume some artist is good merely because they’ve sold a lot of downloads. Fire Note Says: Son Volt’s Honky Tonk is like a lost sleeve from the golden era of country music’s creative past.Īlbum Review: Here’s a funny thing: when loading Honky Tonk into my iTunes library, the digital overlords saw fit to label it as “rock,” however, the two earliest Son Volt releases – Trace and Straightaways – were deemed to be “country.” The ironic lesson is obvious.
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